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Early in the Canadian film-maker Ted Kotcheff’s underrated Australian
outback classic “Wake in Fright” (1971), the protagonist John Grant (Gary Bond),
a haughty school teacher in the outback, dreams about his beautiful girlfriend Robyn
swimming on the beach. She slowly emerges from the water and comes closer to
John in a sexual manner as he places a beer between her breasts. The flush
surroundings, sexual desire and a cold beer are all what John hopes for as he
is making his Christmas holiday trip to Sydney. Sex and alcohol really consumes
John in that holiday trip, but it turns out to be his life’s most nightmarish experience
and also he doesn’t make it to Sydney to meet Robyn. “Wake in Fright” could be
deemed as one of the exhausting movie experience a viewer could have; not
because it is just a boring movie, but since pulls us into the heart of
darkness and shows the meaning of hell through the unbridled exhibition of masculinity.

“Wake in Fright” premiered at 1971 Cannes Film Festival and
did well in the European art-house circuits. It wasn’t well received in America
and in Australia the movie failed big since it was thought to have portrayed an
insulting & abrasive view of the outback Ausralians. Although the movie
gained the label ‘cult classic’, it was almost forgotten until it resurfaced in
Cannes (shown under classics banner; after Antonoini’s “L’Avventura”, “Wake in
Fright" was the only movie to be shown twice in Cannes) in 2009 after an
impeccable digital restoration (thanks to a ten year quest by Australian
producer & editor Anthony Buckley). It was circulated under the label ‘one
of cinema’s long lost classics’ and now in the last five years, it has become
one of the most talked about Australian film.

“Wake in Fright” was made a year before the American
classics “Deliverance” & “Straw Dogs”. Both the movies depicted the dark
side of masculinity and its propensity for violence. It also portrayed how
civilization could be replaced with mindless savagery even with the slightest
provocation. Although these films imbued a balanced approach towards the
frontier or outback people, it paved way to a lot of stereotypical exploitative
American movies. “Wake in Fright” was based on the 1961 novel by prolific
Australian novelist and journalist Kenneth Cook (script written by British writer Evan Jones).
The story takes place in a fictional town named “Budanyabba”, which was
actually based on Broken Hill in New South Wales – one of the most isolated
inland towns in Australia. Director Ted Kotcheff has stated in interviews that
he spent some time in Broken Hill (like the author) before filming.

“Wake in Fright” actually observes its hyper-macho characters
and never takes a moralist stance to condemn the people of outback. The
narrative looked more disturbing than “Deliverance” because the protagonist is
partly the reason for his downfall. John Grant is both a victim as well as a
perpetrator. Kotcheff’s gets into the observational mode from his first
expansive, overhead shot, where the camera pans 360 degrees to show the view of
outback town “Tiboonda”. A rail-road track runs through the parched landscape
and a small stage makes up for a station platform. Only two buildings are in
our view, each placed parallel on either side of the tracks. One is the school
building, where Grant is looking at his watch and the blank-faced children are
waiting calmly. As the right time strikes off, the elated children run off to
enjoy their Christmas holidays before courteously wishing their teacher. Grant
slowly makes his way to the other building, a bar incorporated with lodges. He
packs his suitcase, has a drink and takes the train.

As he enters the train, a hospitable man offers him a beer,
which Grant refuses. He has the aforementioned dream about Robyn on the train
and later makes it to the town of “Bundanyabba” (shortly called as ‘Yabba’).
The cab driver joyfully talks how great the town is. Grant checks into a seedy
hotel. The charge for the room is $4 and $1 as deposit, to be returned after
the check-out. Grant is looking forward for his morning flight to Sydney and in
the night he goes for a drink in the town. A very hospitable sheriff Jock Crawford
(Chips Rafferty) buys him a beer, while Grant shares disdain for outback towns.
Grant feels superiority over the
townsmen, who drink and play simple-minded games. He hates their ‘aggressive
hospitality’. When Grant makes one of his snobby remarks, the mysterious ‘Doc’
Tydon (Donald Pleasance) says “its death to farm out here. It’s worse than death in the mines. You
want them to sing opera as well?” Gradually, Grant lets the delirious spirit of
Yabba to affect him. The drink keeps on coming and the superiority is stricken
down by the vice of gambling. Grant loses all his money (except for that $1 dollar) and literally wakes up
naked in his bed, the next morning. He is swept up by a maelstrom of a group of
hard-drinking & hard-living guys and witnesses different forms of brutality.

Spoilers Ahead

Director Kotcheff and writer Evan Jones have made enough
research to not make “Wake in Fright” into a one-sided outsider view of
Australian outback. Although Yabba brings out Grant’s descent into madness, his
own perception on money and easy life is shown as the triggering point for the
downfall. Doc Tydon says “Discontent is the luxury of well-to-do” as Grant views
the Yabba men as vile creatures. When Grant himself was stripped of luxury (the
money), he just has no other choice than to surrender himself to the unchecked
primitive instincts. Kotcheff and Jones are careful to never push Grant into
life-threatening situation as the group of friends confront in Boorman’s “Deliverance”.
The miners Dick and Joe plus Tydon’s antics are overly aggressive and
domineering, but the situation never becomes that the men are deliberately
torturing Grant to do things. Grant joyously gets into the social rituals
because he has lost his luxury and his hope on the profession. The most
disturbing thing about the film is not the indigestible way of living of these
men, but Grant’s judgmental perception and his inability to relate to people
devoid of opulence. Grant’s descent is in way a defeat of his educational life,
which has only clouded his perceptions.

Jones and Kotcheff repeatedly & subtly refer to this
clouded perception of Grant. One of the earlier hints is his dream about Robyn.
She is not a symbol of love, but only a symbol of carnality, which Grant wants
to consume just as he wants to accumulate the easy money through gambling. The
nightmarish experience the protagonist has might be condemned as too dark to be
close to reality, although alcoholism has always been the biggest problem with
isolated towns, all over the world. But, then Grant’s experiences are not diffused
like assortment of vile elements. He always has the chance to say ‘enough’ and
ask for some help (his pride refuses to borrow money). One of the laudable aspects
of Jones’ script is the complex portrayal of Janette Hynes (Sylvia Kay) – the only
characterized female player. The women in those towns weren’t allowed inside
pubs or clubs. So, they basically trapped inside the confines of house,
bringing in beers when their husband’s or father’s friends arrive to socialize.
Janette’s desolate looks just becomes emblematic of the psychological agonies,
endured by the townswomen. Her promiscuity is also viewed differently from
Tydon without refraining to judgement.

The characterization and the little quirks of mining men
Dick (Jack Thompson) and Joe (Peter Whittle) keeps us intriguing. They aren’t the
archetype villains for this movie. The duo are just living their routine life,
but still everything from that hand squeezing to the jubilation over kangaroo
killings would perfectly unhinge a viewer. Director Ted Kotcheff, in an interview to ‘Senses
of Cinema’ talks about how he planned to film a scene that shows Dick and Joe
working in the mines. Kotcheff adds that if the scene in the mines were filmed
it would have given more perception for viewers on why these men are acting
crazy and drinking themselves to death (“It was the heat and dust and lack of
women that was contributing to their behavior”). Nevertheless, the most talked
about or the most shockingly visceral scene in “Wake in Fright” is the kangaroo
hunting. Documentary footage of actual kangaroo hunting was seamlessly edited
into the movie. We actually witness these genial creatures being brutally killed
on camera and it takes some time to digest that fact. Producer’s note states that
the documentary footage was included after consultations with animal rights
organizations in both Australia and UK. The footage was expected to create contempt
among general public for hunting kangaroos (the couple of kangaroos that’s confronted
by Dick and Grant in the movie weren’t harmed).

One of the recurrent visual motifs in the film is the
blinding or bright light. Light, which is always viewed as a symbol for clarity,
is ironically used in the vital sequences, whenever Grant is about to take
another step-down towards hell. The blinding light in the pub, before the coin
toss, ruins him of his money & pride and later the spotlights during
kangaroo hunting brings out Grant’s more animistic side. Despite the claims
that “Wake in Fright” only showcases the darkly fanciful view of outback, the people
are shown in a balanced manner. The movie starts with one of Grant’s student
giving him a gift for Christmas. The sheriff is affable man, who could have
helped out Grant if he had asked and so does Mr Hynes. The townspeople stand to
attention when the Anzac war memorial, in remembrance of the town’s dead
soldiers, is recited on the radio. The truck driver, who promises to take Grant
to the ‘city’, didn’t charge him for the trip and has returned back Grant’s rifle
(let’s also not forget the guy who drives Grant over ’50 miles of heat and dust’).
These random acts of kindness may not cling to our memory like the actions of
Dick, Joe, Janette and Tydon, but these innocent random people stops us – the sophisticated
audiences – from making the easy judgments. May be the ambiguous message in the
film is not to think that we are all superior over these men. It subtly asks us
what you would do if you are put under the same circumstances as these men.

“Wake in Fright” (114 minutes) is one of the most haunting
and terrifying works of cinema about unchecked masculinity and isolated towns.
The movie is frightful because the five decade old story line still seems to not
have lost its relevance.

If you ignore the positive reviews of Alfonso Gomez-Rejon’s“Me
and Earl and the Dying Girl” (2015), generating among cinephiles and just read
its plot, the immediate line of thought you would have is ‘just another teen
cancer tear-jerker’ or a ‘narcissistic high-school movie’. The movie never
circumvents the conventional scenes we think that are gonna be in such a
‘cancer flick’. There’s the perfectly calculated laid-back attitude and a
typical understated characterizations of indie films. The eccentric animated
sequences plus the characters’ movie fixation reminds us of Michael Gondry’s
films, while that coy quirkiness and self-referential jokes makes us holler the
name ‘Wes Anderson’. So, on terms of originality the film might not score a
lot. But, still “Me and Earl and Dying Girl” offers an emotional pull that it is
irresistible. As the narrative oscillates between enthusiasm and pathos, we get
a feeling that there are more genuine moments in this contemporary American
teenager movie than in a usual YA novel or flick.

The coming-of-age was
actually based on a YA novel written by Jesse Andrews (who has also sensibly
adapted his novel), which pulled off the ‘Grand Jury Award’ at Sundance Film
Festival. The subject of teen angst hits a nerve, the same way Stephen
Chbosky’s “The Perks of being Wallflower” did. The movie starts with an
indistinct Pittsburgh high school senior named Greg Gaines (Thomas Mann)
explaining to us his unfailing formula for surviving in high school. He has
dedicated his school life to learn the codes of in-groups and has tried to never
associate with a single group. He alleges that the school cafeteria as “a
disputed territory; It was Crimea, Kashmir and Gaza Strip all rolled into one”.
It’s clear that Greg’s survival tactics has neither earned him any friends nor
given him the ability to be trustworthy.

But, still Greg has one friend named Earl (RJ Cycler), with
whom he hangs out in a self-indulgent history teacher’s office and at home.
However, Greg likes the term ‘co-worker’ to describe rather than friend. As
Earl explains in a latter scene, Greg has some serious trust &self-loathing
issues that he hates to be friends with someone. They both are co-workers
because the duo makes parodies/homages on classic art-house films, which they
have started to watch from a very tender age, thanks to the influence of Greg’s
well-meaning but aloof father (a tenured sociology professor, played by Nick Offerman). Greg’s mother (Connie Britton) is a little overly protective parent
and often she likes to go through her son’s things. She also compels Greg to
visit Rachel Kushner (Olivia Cooke), a schoolmate recently diagnosed with
cancer.

Greg calls Rachel and says some awkward things. She doesn’t
want a pity visit. Later, Greg honestly says why he has visited to her house:
“I’m actually here because my mom is making me”. But, we are informed early
that this relationship isn’t going to take the usual romance route as “Day one
of Doomed Friendship” title card pops-up. Despite being in a closed-in space,
they do not warm up to each other. He makes some awkward jokes about death,
masturbation and high-school cliques, while she calmly listens to his
eccentricities. As expected a genuine friendship builds between the two, but it
is more centered on Greg, who learns to not rejoice in solipsism.

Even though the movie starts with a highly stylistic and
self-aware setting, the narrative trajectory is very predictable. Jesse Andrews
expresses a lot about the grown-up characters through Greg’s point-of-view, but
they are more or less works like a cog in the machine rather than a separate
entity. But, since the protagonist here wavers between ‘over-the-top’ humility
and narcissistic attitude, his point of view on others doesn’t totally come off
as stereotype. For example, about Earl, Greg simply introduces as “His house is
short walk from mine, but in a tougher neighborhood; his dad is in Texas and
his mom is a depressed shut-in”. It is all Greg could say about a guy with whom
he had hanged-out since kindergarten. Earl’s stereotypical introduction isn’t
the script’s negative aspect; it just makes us to see how limited Greg’s
world-view is, in spite of being a bibliophile and cinephile. As the narrative
progresses, we learn Earl isn’t a stereotypical character. In fact he talks
more easily to Rachel and makes her feel less like a cancer victim than Greg.
He also conveys the most soulful message to Rachel than any of the high school
students and family members. I also
personally liked how Greg and Rachel’s relationship is portrayed in a way to
makes us ponder on whether there is a romantic connection between them or not.

Director Alfonso Gomez-Rejon seems to have a penchant for
sunlit shots. His previous feature film “The Town that Dreaded Sundown” was a
typical, dull slasher flick, but the one commendable aspect was Alfonso’s
impeccable frames. My favorite shot composition is the scene before the third
act, where Rachel and Greg have a verbal dispute was splendidly filmed in a way
that exposes both the person’s vulnerabilities and inner conflicts (although
Rachel and Greg aren’t seeing face to face). The chief delight of “Dying Girl”
is the hilarious little shorts on classic world cinema, created by Earl and
Greg (“Eyes Wide Butt”, “Pooping Tom”, “Senior Citizen Kane”, etc). The scene
where Greg imitates Werner Herzog, while applying for the college was one of
the film’s funniest moment.

Since the movie is totally concentrated on “Me” in the
title, the protagonist’s self-centered antics might make you feel a little
exhausted. The ending is kind of inevitable and Greg finally learning to
appreciate other people’s depth and complexity is touched upon with a little
melodrama or sentimentality. Nevertheless, a total absence of melodrama would
have undone the movie experience for many who seek a simple YA tear-jerker. The performances are just more than perfect.
Thomas Mann and RJ Cycler (his debut feature) transcend the contrivances of
their characters.But, the best of the
lot is Olivia Cooke as Rachel. She has a limited screen time than what we
expect, but at no point she gives us a pity performance. Rachel is said to be
Cooke’s first dramatic role (she has only been in sci-fi or horror movies) and
she has pulled it off with the elegance of an established star.

“Me and Earl and the Dying Girl” (105 minutes) is a poignant
tale of teenage friendship that renders how stupid it is to waste our life on
self-absorption & self-loathing. Despite its last-act melodrama, you will
feel that the tears shed are genuinely earned.

Nanni Moretti is one of the important Italian film-makers succeeding the great new-wave film-makers (Fellini, Antonoini, etc), who
revolutionized world and Italian cinema. His early art-house comedies earned
him the name “Italian Woody Allen”, although he had switched to making serious
and wry films, especially after Palme d’Or winning “The Son’s Room” (2001). His
satiric political movie on the controversial Italian Prime Minister Silvio
Berluscoi (“The Caiman”) and the unusually funny Vatican tale (“We Have a
Pope”) weren’t as critically appraised as his previous semi-autobiographical
or his fantasia movies (I personally cherished both his bittersweet social
critiques). Now, with “Mia Madre” (aka My Mother, 2015), Moretti once again
returns to his autobiographical territory. Cinephiles might find this film less
cathartic or touching than Moretti’s masterpiece “The Son’s Room”, even-though
many of that movie’s themes are explored here too (death, self-doubt, etc).

Moretti’s whimsical substance and considerable pathos in “My
Mother” reminisces us of the works of Abbas Kiarostami rather than Woody Allen.
In this nuanced and tranquil family drama, Moretti rises above that strictly
auto-biographic nature to infuse some universal statements.”Mia Madre” may not
be the Italian director’s best, but its one of his more mature & sublime
works.Moretti’s latest film is a about
a anxious, self-absorbed woman filmmaker, whose mind is occupied by the
imminent loss of her hospitalized mother. The obvious autobiographical angle
comes from the truth that Moretti lost his mother during the filming of his
last film “We have a Pope”. Despite the ‘My’ in the title, Moretti has chosen a
woman to represent himself, perhaps to provide us with an extra creative
dimension. Oddly, the woman film-maker has a compassionate sibling to lean on,
who is played by Moretti himself. So, the director is referring to us that he
is an amalgamation of both these characters – one racked by self-doubt, while
the other blessed with some clear insights.

“My Mother” commences on the shooting of a film, where the
acclaimed film-maker Margherita (Margherita Buy) is making her latest
social-realist drama. Her ex-lover Vittorio (Enrico Ianneillo) is one of the
cast members and the crew is shooting few of the stand-in scenes, before the
arrival of American star Barry Huggins (John Turturo). Margherita looks a bit
distracted and at the end of the day, she goes to the hospital to visit her
mother Ada (Giulia Lazzarini), a retired teacher of classical languages. Ada is
cared for by her elder son Giovanni (Moretti), who has taken a long leave and
has no intention to return to his mundane job (at an engineering firm).
Margherita is swept up by the emotional turmoil of losing her mother as the
doctor warns that Ada’s time might be short. Margherita has only recently moved
out of the apartment of her lover Vittorio and is now staying at her mother’s
house. Her teenage daughter Livia (Beatrice Mancini) and ex-husband are on a skiing
trip.

Guilt, fear and self-doubt racks the mind of Margherita as
the impending death of her mother hovers around. Margherita’s stay at her
mother’s house brings up haunted memories of the past. Her confrontation on
mother’s mortality only brings nerve-wracking doubts about her own existence.
The arrival of bothersome American actor Barry only escalates her insecurity.
Ada is tired of being in the hospital and is increasingly uncertain of her own
memories. Despite such a melodramatic core, Moretti isn’t up for doing a
straight-forward, moving family drama. The script is mixed with sensitive
euphemisms, splendid Meta shots and also a satiric look at film-making process.

“My Mother” is mostly about a film-maker, who is
increasingly unable to isolate her directorial persona from her private life.
Margherita’s uncertainty and ignorance of her mother’s fate reflects with her
self-doubt on the film set. Her improbably pertinent dreams symbolize the
inability to express simple motions life grief and love. Moretti’s script
alternates between hospital rooms to the factory set, observing how the unrest
in one arena is causing the other. May be the clash between the director’s
private and public life weren’t as perfectly amalgamated as one would expect it
to be. The comic interludes or the slapstick nature of Margherita‘s film-making
chore might have undone the intimate family drama elements. But, it is clear
from the first that “My Mother” isn’t deep exploration about death or grief
(like “The Son’s Room"). It is more like Moretti observing and admitting his own
misdeeds with some self-irony.

The thematically related film-making moments at times feel
too contrived. It seems those episodes were designed to evoke a set of
reactions from the central character. But, Margherita Buy (who plays the
director) and John Turturo (his acting on a camera car was absolutely
hilarious), playing the cliched role of American actor, elevate the
contrived material to diffuse us with some grandstanding. Another element that
seemed a bit under-developed is the relationship between Vittorio and
Margherita. At one point, Vittorio says some acidic words about Margherita’s
character nature. Since we are shown little about the lead character’s past,
the accusations seem more like a bickering. The character of Ada, however, was
very well written. The mother is satisfied with the life she has had (doted by
her former students) and Moretti didn’t inject some fall sense of morbidity over
her illness. To bring a little verisimilitude, director Moretti is said to have
brought his mother’s things for the shoot.

There are still plenty of great moments in the film to dwell
on. In one scene, Livia irritably questions on the importance of learning Latin
to her mother. Margherita’s vague answer to Livia is a joy to watch, because
her insistence on Latin to Livia is one way to lament on Ada’s memory (Ada
being the teacher of Latin). Once again in this scene Margherita is unable to
express herself because of that resonant theme of uncertainty. Some bits of
broad comedy pokes at Moretti’s profession, especially Marghterita’s attempts to
push her actors into a more relaxed performance style (“I’d like to see the
actor next to the character”), which only confuses them more. The ending was
perfectly understated without betraying any loud emotions.

“My Mother” (108 minutes) is a nuanced and elegiac
observation of a woman facing existential crisis. This restrained family drama
from Italian auteur Nanni Moretti definitely demands a lot of patience and a
reflective mood.

American film-maker John McNaughton gained prominence with
his debut film “Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer”, which went on to attain
the cult classic status. It was a dispassionate character study and one of
ultra-realistic portrayals of serial-killer onscreen. It preceded avant-garde
serial killer flicks like “Man Bites Dog” (1993) and was succeeded by Japanese
master Immamura’s lacerating film “Vengeance is Mine” (1979). In his three
decade career, McNaughton made other cult favorites like “Mad Dog and Glory”,
“Normal Life” and “Wild Things”. His movie characters’ oddity and presence of
disturbing psychological horror elements eluded him the commercial success and
kept him away from bigger projects. McNaughton later went on to director TV
movies & documentaries that didn’t grab anybody’s attention. With the
Canadian independent movie “The Harvest” (2013), director McNaughton once again
returned to the big screen. Although the film was sold as a horror movie, it is
a engaging psychological thriller that leaves you with mixed feelings.

“The Harvest” starts with a terrifying sequence of a little
boy getting deadly injured on the baseball field. One minute the boy’s mother
is cheering for him and the next minute he is being rushed into a hospital with
pulse dropping. Later, a motherly doctor comes out of the operating saying that
the boy is alright. It is a strange beginning since the boy’s injury has
nothing to do with the movie’s premise, but the whole scene is conceived to
make us think that the doctor Katherine (Samantha Morton) is a warm-hearted
human being. The next scene is more symbolic, where a boy bound to his
wheel-chair, in his lavishly designed room, watches out the window. He
helplessly looks at a crow, devouring the corns that are growing near his
window. The adolescent boy named Andy (Charlie Tahan) seems to be suffering
from some kind of debilitating disease and was overly cared by his protective
mother/doctor Katherine.

Andy’s father Richard (Michael Shannon) has quit his job as
a nurse to take care of the boy. Richard seems disturbed by the boy’s worsening
health and only seeks solace by conversing with Sandra (Meadow Williams). They
meet up in some random places, where Sandra gives few test drugs that might
have heavy side-effects. Katherine rejects Andy’s demands to get fresh air and
the boy also often looks tired due to increasing doses of drugs. Although the
husband and wife repeatedly discuss about Andy’s illness, the details of his
illness remain elusive. Meantime, a precocious teenager, May Ann (Natasha Calis) moves to her grandparent’s house, which is situated within a walking
distance from Andy’s house. She has lost her parents in a recent accident and
also displaced from all her friends. One day, wandering through the woods, she
stumbles onto Andy’s house and is intrigued by the tired boy on wheel-chair.

Maryann befriends Andy and persistently asks questions about
his illness. Andy is elated by the girl’s presence (his first friend). But,
Katherine is unbelievably cold towards Maryann. She slams the door on the
girl’s face and even visits Maryann’s grandparents’ house, to ask them to leave
her son alone. Richard warms a little to the teenagers’ friendship. Katherine’s
repeated warnings only compel Maryann to bond with Andy. One of the teenagers’
secret meetings is foiled by Katherine’s sudden arrival. Although Maryann
smartly hides herself from Andy’s mother, she is stuck within a dark room that
leads to the basement. There she finds a horrible truth about Andy’s illness
that puts everything into perspective.

The chief problem with “The Harvest” is its mediocre script
(written by Stephen Lancellotti), which lacks tension or psychological power-play in the second-half of the movie. All the tension during the
first-half on sun-lit house seems to have emanated from the dark secrets held in
basement, but once that secret comes to light, the tension drops down to a poor
levels. It had all the markings of being a great psychological thriller, but
the writer’s hesitation to put his central characters through anguish nearly
ruins the film. Although Maryann gets the facts wrong the first time she is in
the basement, viewers could easily guess ‘who is who’. But, the script
sluggishly evolves from then on and thinks in the end that it is throwing us a
chilling twist.We could overlook few of
the inane & illogical decisions of the teen character, but what troubled me
are the characteristics of Maryann’s grandfather (played by veteran actor Peter Fonda). He seems to be a more caring guy; looking at an opportunity to bond
with his grand-daughter. But, when an opportunity presents itself, he not only
rejects her story, he also gives some mawkish message like “Follow your heart”.

The script seems to be a blend of Grimm’s fairy tales and
Stephen King novels. The writing aims to deliver an ironical message about
overprotective parenthood and misplaced sense of love. If these themes were
explored deeply, it could have been as great as the classic French thriller
“Eyes without a Face” (also about a doctor parent, going to great lengths to
save his damaged child). Director McNaughton has tried his best to keep the
tension in the narrative and he succeeds till the mid-point. He builds the dread
similar to that of King’s novel and stays away from diffusing jump scare
moments. There are few pacing issues but it can be overlooked, since this is
the film-maker’s first film in a decade. The movie has one of the best casts
one could ever dream for an indie project. Samantha Morton gradually escalates her
craziness to Kathy Bates level (“Misery”), but never given a menacing sequence
to satiate her intense presence. Michel Shannon, despite his towering physical
presence, adeptly plays the vulnerable & distressed character of Richard.
The young actors Tahan and Calis are excellent. They subtly express the teenage solidarity without a single false note of sentimentality. The production
designs are strikingly elaborate (Andy’s room itself gradually develops into a
vital character).

“The Harvest” (104 minutes) has an interesting premise for a
psychological horror/thriller. Its third-act cliches and illogical contrivances
nearly derail our interest in the film, but still it is better than a
conventional, rusty horror flick.

P.S. -- Don't watch the movie's trailer because I think it gives away a lot.

At the beginning of French film-maker Mona Acache’s
directorial debut, “The Hedgehog” (2009), we see a bespectacled 11 year old
girl in a dark room, holding a torch in one hand and talking to her
ever-present companion, a video camera. She states how rich her Parisian family
is but doesn’t want to ‘head for the fishbowl, a world where adults bang like
flies on the glass’.The girl‘s choice
of words and metaphorical statements strongly suggest that she is a mature
& intelligent girl. Nevertheless, the 11 year old finishes her brief speech
by stating that the ‘fishbowl is definitely not for her’ and that she is going
to end her life on 12th birthday. Despite the onerous declaration by
this pre-teen, something suggests us (may be the 11 year old reminds us of
Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s capricious character) that the film is going to be
whimsical rather than a lamentable drama. Actually, “The Hedgehog” diffuses
both the elements: a whimsical melodrama. It is deplorably contrived at few
junctures and remarkably touching at others.

The movie is based on the best selling novel, “The Elegance
of Hedgehog”, by French philosophy professor and novelist Muriel Barbery.
Although, there might have been many changes between the novel and its
adaptation, we can see that existentialism is one of the chief themes of the
story. Paloma Josse (Garance Le Guillermic), the precocious girl we met in the
first scene, is in fact burdened by her fairly standard, unremarkable rich
life. She hates to exist in this world as an adult. Paloma’s father Paul
(Wladimir Yordanoff) is a minister, who is either in a command mode or busy
mode. Mother Solange (Anne Brochet) has been on therapy and takes
anti-depressants for the last 10 years. She talks a lot with her plants than
with Paloma and thinks that the little girl is the only ‘oddball’ in the
family. Paloma has an elder sister, who is confronting her own teen angst and
wants nothing to do with the 11 year old’s ruminations on life.

Paloma’s favorite pastime is to hide herself within the
apartment complex and to observe her family’s (recorded by a video camera)
bourgeois absurdism. If the little girl is literally trying to hide from
existence, the apartment building’s 54 year old janitor Renee Michel (Josiane Balasko) has perfected her skills in the aspect of concealing. In both the
figurative and literal sense, Michel isn’t often noticed. But that doesn’t mean
that Michel is an unremarkable woman. Paloma relates Renee’s characteristics to
that of a hedgehog – sharp-tongued & unkempt on the outside, but with a
sensitive soul on the inside. The janitor’s sensitive side is evoked by the
arrival of a wealthy & elegant Japanese widower, Mr Kakoru Ozu (Togo Igawa). Despite the class differences, they both share the taste of seeking
solace amidst the books & classic films. Paloma is also nudged into these
outsiders’ world and her fascination about these people gradually changes her
perspective on life.

Mona Achache’s
adapted screenplay imbues both the high and low points of a best-seller. If the
movie’s whimsical nature occupies the high-end of the spectrum, the suggested
mawkishness & neat resolutions occupies the low-end of the spectrum.
Although the plot is about three eccentric & independent characters, who
cherish their private lives and the meaning that’s derived through creativity
and art, the script includes few of those manipulative & contrived emotions
or elements. Of course these plot formalities are outmatched at many
circumstances by the whimsical elements and astounding performances. In one of her creative endeavors, Paloma fills
a glass with water and films her sister through the filled glass, demonstrating
how limited the elder girl’s thoughts are (“archetype of the fish in the bowl
theory; obsessed by the need to be less neurotic than her mother”).

Paloma also makes some of the ponderous and chuckle-worthy
observations. She corrects her father’s friend about the differences between
‘go’ and ‘chess’ and says sentences like “Only psychiatry rivals religion for
love of suffering” at the dinner table. Such reflective words not only suggest
matured thought process of Paloma, but also subtly depicts her inner pain,
especially when the parents brush-off those words as that of an ‘oddball’. Unlike
her mother, Paloma doesn’t cry to demonstrate misery, but through her stoicism,
we could experience the rejection and loneliness she is facing. The book and
Achache’s script seems to be diffused with literary, cinematic & musical
references. Those who have great interest in books & old movies might be
immediately affirmed with the movie’s wavelength. These names or references
make the bibliophiles & cinephiles within us to feel a kinship with the
three central characters. However, that doesn’t mean that you need to be
familiarized with names like Tolstoy and Ozu to relate to the film’s themes
(Paloma in fact seems to have the characteristics of the kids in Ozu’s films.

Renee is another tough nut, who openly states that she is
unsociable. But, the idea of connecting takes both of them to an elated level.
Ozu’s magical presence makes these two characters to gradually crossover their
cynicism. The friendship between Ozu and Paloma is pushed through believable
limit. Paloma meets Ozu on the elevator and he asks about her interest in
learning Japanese. Paloma says few words in Japanese, and Mr. Ozu instead of
just marveling at her, corrects her pronunciation. Paloma for the first time
might have felt that she has been taken seriously by a human. For the first
time, she is constructively criticized rather than treated like a keyed toy.
So, a friendship naturally ensues. The same kind of believable slow progression
happens in the friendship between Ozu and Renee. Of course there are moments,
where the events feel less like a naturalistic drama.

The abrupt, melodramatic climax gives us this unnaturalistic
feeling. I felt that the closure didn’t have the emotional and intellectual
honesty that drove away the rest of the movie. Class difference is one of the movie’s
vital themes, but there weren’t explicit references to this and the theme didn’t
narrow the characters’ actions. Of the performers, Balasko as Renee gives the
most complete and soulful performance. She wonderfully expresses her terrifying
as well as elated feeling, brought out by the friendship with Ozu and Paloma. Igawa’s
elegance and insights reminds us of Morgan Freeman and his confidence is
certainly infectious. Le Guillermic despite her character’s nature doesn’t come
off as self-indulgent young brat. Her smartness doesn’t annoy us like that of
the American movie kids.

“The Hedgehog” (95 minutes) is a moving, bittersweet tale of
a demoralized pre-teen developing a deep appreciation of life. It is a sublime
drama punctuated by few contrived plot turns.

Brazilian writer/director Fernando Coimbra’s feature-film
debut “A Wolf at the Door” (2013) opens on a scorching day, where Brazil’s
iconic ‘Christ the Redeemer’ statue hovers like a mirage. Then, we see a shot
of rattling trains running through the seamy city surroundings. These two
opening shots establish that the film isn’t going to depict any alluring
visions about Brazil. The blistering heat refers to the conflicts between the
characters we are yet to familiarize with, which are going to reach a boiling
point. The opening montage sequences ends up with a shot of a public telephone
that’s shown as if it would ring anytime. This final shot is vital to the movie’s
alleged thriller framework because we learn after few minutes into the movie
that a child is kidnapped, although there are no ransom calls from a payphone demanding
money.

“A Wolf at the Door” is a trenchant examination of adultery –
its initial allure and the dangerous consequences. At its outset, the plot
might seem akin to “Fatal Attraction” (1987). It even starts off like a
Hollywood police procedural, but this Brazilian movie veers more into Michael
Haneke territory or into the dominion of a Greek Tragedy than an American
commercial flick. Sylvia (Fabiula Nascimento), the housewife after going
through her routine works goes to pick her little daughter from the
neighborhood kindergarten. The teacher/owner greets her and says you have just
missed her. When Sylvia furiously asks how she could let out the child before her
arrival, the teacher claims that Sylvia herself called her to say that a
neighbor named ‘Sheila’ would come to collect the girl. Sylvia, of course,
never called the teacher. She goes to the police stating that it must be some
kind of mistake because they are just a middle-class family with little money.

The teacher asserts that the child knew the alleged neighbor
because she saw the child running gleefully to ‘Sheila’. Sylvia’s husband
Bernardo (Milhelm Cortaz), who works at a bus depot, is called for and he immediately
places his suspicion on a woman named Rosa (Leandra Leal). Bernardo has had an
affair with the 25 year old Rosa and he also says to the police that Rosa has
demanded to meet him that day at 7 pm in the train station. When Rosa doesn’t
show up at the station, the police go to her home and bring in investigation. Initially,
she denies any involvement, but after the teacher’s positive identification, Rosa
accepts that she picked up the child, but only due to the threatening commands
of ‘Betty’. Rosa tells the police that Betty is the girlfriend of Sylvia’s
secret lover and that she has given the child to Betty.

The initial portions of “A Wolf at the Door” immediately
brought to mind Anurag Kashyap’s “Ugly” (which might have been filmed at the same
time as this movie). Although both the movies provide an incisive commentary on
adultery, egotism and parental negligence (children in these movies were used
as pawns by the adult characters), Fernando Coimbra doesn’t take up with Kashyap’s
black comedy approach. After the initial promise of a thriller, Coimbra’s film
at a certain point starts moving like a straightforward drama with a shocking
final. The encounters between Rosa and Bernardo hinges on the framework of an
erotic drama. However, these erotic sequences have no tenderness or affection.
The animistic copulation reminisces us of the works from Paul Verheoven or Nicolas Roeg. The
anxiety of cheating consumes Bernardo more than Rosa’s beauty.

Spoilers Ahead

The dangerous possessiveness, bickering and haunting
suspicions are the typical elements that hovers around infidelity drama. But,
these elements have become time worn because it was used by countless soap
operas and crummy novels. Nevertheless, if “Wolf at the Door” keeps us hooked
till the end, it is because of director Coimbra’s unconventional sense of
composition and due to the brilliant performances. The director is more interested
in surveying the surroundings than simply move the narrative forward in a
ceremonious manner. When Rosa visits Sylvia at her home, the shot is placed at
a point so that we could observe the environment rather than the mundane
conversation. Rosa’s impoverished home life and constricted relationship with
her parents is depicted as subtly as possible and showcased the reason for her
to cling to the naive romantic ideas. The camera for the most part remains
motionless and these shots provide a lacerating effect, whenever a literal or
psychological beating ensues.

Apart from the ending sequences, the most agitating
confrontation in the film happens when Bernardo beats Rosa for meeting up with
his wife. Just when we think that he is going to kiss Rosa, Bernardo gets rough
and compels her to repeat the words: "I want you to fuck me for the rest of my
life”. When she obliges with his command, he simply says: “Well, too bad” and
leaves the room. The sequence is very much similar to emotional rape
perpetrated by Willem Dafoe character in David Lynch’s “Wild at Heart”, but
here we see Bernardo return to the room and reconciling with Rosa. This scene
probably exhibits the explosive symbiotic relationship, for which the final
stop could only be hell. Those who have expected a thematically &
narrative-wise twisty thriller in the vein of “Prisoners” might be severely
disappointed. Coimbra uses the word ‘thriller’ to lure us for presenting the inner
turmoil of an unloved woman, who wants to override the social sanctions.

Eventually, this film could also be seen as a different
version of ‘Three Little Pigs and the Big Bad Wolf’ folktale. Although, a wolf
is a metaphor to indicate a family unit threatened by an outside force, the
identity of the wolf in the film is a bit elusive. Rosa’s devastating final act
makes her the titular wolf, but it is hard to forget the tactics of cruel
Bernardo. It is also ironic how the family, especially Sylvia, has welcomed the
wolf with open arms. Leandra Leal gives a sympathetic and enervating
performance as Rosa. She vividly exhibits her characters’ sexual passion,
romantic aspirations and outbursts. There’s not a single contrived reaction in
Leal’s angst-filled portrayal of Rosa. Milhelm Cortaz gives a raw performance
as Bernardo, unlike the Hollywood movie adulterers.

“A Wolf at the Door” (101 minutes) may not possess big twists
for thriller aficionados, but those who have no qualms over looking through
darkest inlets of human nature might be in for a intense movie experience. It
is a punch-to-the-gut psychological study of a fragile woman.

Yellow Sea is the name given to northern part of the East
China Sea that’s located between Korean peninsula and Chinese mainland. Joseon-jok
is the name given by South Koreans (considered unfriendly) to the millions of
ethnic Koreans living outside Korean peninsula in China as the citizens of
People’s Republic of China. These people are alienated, who are mostly employed
with hard labor jobs, both by their Chinese compatriots and South Koreans. From
this standpoint, for the Joseon-jok people, the ‘Yellow Sea’ might be a symbol
of alienation or hopelessness, as isolation close in on both sides of the shores.
Korean film-maker Na Hong-jin’s second feature film “The Yellow Sea’s” (2010)
protagonist is a Joseon-jok, who is discriminated, falsely incriminated and
stabbed at. He brings out the hopelessness confronted by his people, but “Yellow
Sea” isn’t just a bittersweet film that tracks the livelihood of a persecuted
immigrant; it’s an exhilarating and unbelievably coincidental action/thriller.

Director Na Hong-jin made his debut with the much-talked
about serial killer thriller “The Chaser” (2008). The debut was regarded and
equated with the works of Korean New Wave film-makers Park Chan-Wook, Bong
Joon-Ho and Kim Jee-Won. So, it is very important to mention earlier that “The
Yellow Sea” reaches the heights scaled by those modern Korean auteurs, although
it bestows a frequently thrilling movie experience. The movie begins with the
protagonist Gu Nam (Ha Jung-woo) squandering the little money he has earned the
previous night as a taxi driver by playing mah-jong. He has had a lot of drinks
and as he tries to sleep, couple of tough guys beat him up to pay off the debt that’s
mounting up day-by-day. As the sleepless Gu Nam gets down to his taxi, he seems
to have punched at the photo frame, where he and his wife are standing in their
wedding attire.

We learn that Gu Nam has borrowed a lot of money for the
visa to send his wife to South Korea, in hopes of getting a better job. But, it’s
been six months since she has left Gu Nam and their little daughter. She hasn’t
sent any money or even a letter regarding her whereabouts. Everyone from the
wife’s father to debt collectors state that she has an affair with some South
Korean. They say that it happens often with the woman traveling to Korean
peninsula for a better life. Gu Nam’s mom also expresses her doubt about his
wife: “her eyes are so slanted… They are split open like a vagina”. Gu Nam
dreams about his wife having passionate sex with some stranger. During one of
those bad gambling days, Gu Nam is insulted for his ethnicity and the consequent
sight of his rage beholds the attention of a Korean gangster Myun (Kim Yun-seok). Next day, the loan sharks introduce Gu Nam to Myun, who promises to
pay off all his debts for one simple job: to do a contract killing in Seoul.

Gu Nam is reluctant to accept the offer, but his wild
visions of his wife’s alleged affair makes him to accept the job. The job also
provides him the opportunity to search for his wife. Gu Nam makes his
horrifying illegal journey in the clammy bowels of a fishing boat, along with
other poor souls, to South Korea. Myun has given nearly two weeks to Gu Nam for
the killing, and if he botches the plan or goes off the radar in Seoul, his
daughter and elderly mother would be murdered. Gu Nam wanders through Seoul
with his wife’s photograph and at the same time observes at his target like a
secret agent. He selects a day for killing after detailed plans, but an
incredible and deadly coincidental happening plunges our protagonist into a web
of deceit & intrigue.

Although “The Yellow Sea” could be called off as an
action/thriller, we can strongly associate the movie’s narrative and themes
with that of sub-genres like ‘neo-Noir’ and ‘black comedy’. It also has the
usual Korean ingredients and slick production values. Renowned critic Mr.
Raghavendra (in his book “Directors Cut”) calls this familiar Korean ingredient
as ‘casual brutality’. From Lee Chang-dong’s “Pepppermint Candy” to Kim Ki-duk’s
“Pieta”, Korean protagonists and antagonists don’t neatly fit into the
frameworks of their respective roles. Through their causal brutal nature and
lack of compassion, they make us reassess their characteristics. Korean film-makers
tend to heighten this inherent brutality, especially when they are approaching
characters that are normally perceived as vicious ones by general public. Bong
Joon-ho’s in-competitive main guy in “Memories of Murder” and Kim Jee-woon’s
caved in hero of “I Saw the Devil” are some of the few examples, where this ‘casually
brutal’ nature has an extraordinary, lacerating effect on the viewers. Director
Na Hong-jin’s protagonist in his debut feature “The Chaser” is a pimp, a deeply
flawed character. But, as the narrative progresses, we look through his flaws
and root for his vicious attitude to catch the more deplorable serial killer, who
is killing the prostitutes.

In the same vein, Gu Nam and Mr. Myun in “The Yellow Sea” are
not likable characters. They are driven by rage and revenge, but their causal
brutality becomes enthralling as we perceive the antics of bourgeois villains. Korean
Neo-Noir’s that perfectly entrench this Korean ingredient not only changes
viewers’ understanding of the blurred lines of good & evil, but also raises
the bar of tension and excitement to the highest levels. Despite the
characterization and performance of actors playing Gu Nam and Myun, “The Yellow
Sea” never reaches the greatness of its predecessors, mainly because of its
digressing script. At 157 minutes, the theatrical cut wavered a lot without
clearly depicting the character motivations for a majority of running time.
Hong-jin’s director’s cut (140 minutes) version was better, but still would
leave the viewers scratching their head, trying to figure out the parties
involved in the killing.

Director Hong-Jin deliberately leaves certain things with an
air of ambiguity (the fate of Gu-Nam’s wife), but other muddled plot points
couldn’t be related with ambiguity. Hong-jin starts the film spectacularly
with Gu Nam, recalling his childhood memory of a rabid dog in his village. As
Gu Nam finishes the brief story with the words ‘Rabies is spreading’, we could
guess at the callous and downbeat things that are going to happen in the
narrative. The rage, fear and isolation of the protagonist works as a nice
analogy to the event he recalls at first. Gu Nam's furious beatings, hard escapes
and final fate reminisces us of the tale of rabid dog. On the other hand, the
axe-wielding gangster part of Myun imbues a darkly comic nature to the film.
His unbelievable escapades and the consequent reactions of his South Korean
counterpart are offensively joyous parts. Most of the action sequences
involving Myun are kept off-screen, mainly to enhance the black comedy
elements.

Hong-jin may not have elegantly unfolded the multiple layers
of lies, deceit and deception in the script, but he has certainly amplified the
tension through the long chase & fight sequences (credibility is stretched
in some of these sequences). The violence in some of these sequences is
insanely brutal that all it makes us to do is chuckle at it. Despite its
downbeat nature, the savagery is depicted in a slick manner, like the ones we often
experience in a Tarantino movie. Another flaw with the film is that there are
no notable female characters in the film (it was the same in movies like “Oldboy”,
“A Bittersweet Life”, etc). The few females present are shown off as treasured
objects, inciting all the bloodshed. Hong-jin might also have missed out a
chance to depict the barbarous treatment of Joseon-juk – people with no
homeland (although that image in the fishing boat, where the immigrants are
huddled together, is very haunting).

“The Yellow Sea” (140 minutes) could have been a robust,
contemplative, hard-edged piece of work, if only it had jettisoned its petty
digressions. Nevertheless, it is an energetic, commercial thriller with
ingenious set-pieces.